Broom Cupboard Normality
by 00Verisimilitude00
Summary: After an unpleasant Defense Against the Dark Arts class in their seventh year, Neville and Hannah hide in a broom cupboard. Naturally clumsiness and romance ensue. One-shot


**A/N: Hi all, so this is a one-shot consisting of Neville Longbottom, Hannah Abbott and a broom closet.**

**It will be part of a series of one-shots consisting of canon pairings and broom closets (sounds good, no?). I have already written a Ron/Hermione fic, and are in the midst of writing Teddy/Victoire. I am planning on writing a L/J, Rose/Scorpius, Andromeda/Ted, Remus/Tonks. Ending up with my lucky number 7 in all.**

**Reader Discretion: This is rated T, and so there will be _no_ graphic sex or even any sex at all. This is entirely to not put off younger readers and it goes for all my one-shots in this entire series. There is however some brief torture, but entirely a la Goblet of Fire in the graveyard-esque, so nothing unusual if you have read the Harry Potter series the whole way through.**

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"Stop it!" Neville shouted, standing up in his seat.

Alecto Carrow's eyes never deviated from where Hannah Abbott was shrieking on the ground, but snarled, "Shut it boy. This is none of your concern."

"Like hell it isn't!"

"Be quiet or I'll curse you too!" Carrow shouted, and Neville watched with twisted amusement that her wand hand twitched in annoyance. Now if he could only get her sufficiently distracted from Hannah. As they had learned the second week of term, it was impossible to torture two people at once with the Cruciatus curse.

"Oh yeah? I'm surprised you have enough wizarding blood in you to hex anyone at all. You look awful like those Muggle illustrations you were showing us yesterday," Neville commented idly over Hannah's awful whimpers.

Behind him Neville heard groans from his classmates and some awestruck encouragement.

"I said shut up, you blood traitor!" Carrow cried, whirling around to face him. Neville could hear her breathing heavily from anger, and her eyes were wild as they surveyed him behind his desk. "You're going to regret saying that, Longbottom," she hissed, fingering her wand menacingly. "I'm gonna to make you plead for mercy."

"Gryffindors don't plead for anything," Neville said instantly. "No can't do, Carrow. Although," he paused, "I'll be happy to go get some Slytherins for the job; they're used to all that grovelling stuff."

Neville could practically hear people wincing sympathetically behind him.

He just caught sight of Hannah's horrified face as she shakily propped herself up on her elbows before Carrow crowed triumphantly, "Crucio!"

The pain was incredible. Neville supposed he should have gotten used to it by now, considering how many times a week the curse was put on him, but there was no way to adjust to the feel of hot pokers stabbing you all over your skin or of frost-bitten knives being shoved into your every pore. His mind clouded by pain, all Neville could do was wait it out, screaming for all he was worth the entire time. Silence, moans, yells: nothing could persuade the Carrows to lift the curse until they decided they'd had enough. Neville figured that silence proved too difficult to accomplish and moans often turned to begs – exactly what he wanted to avoid. Later, when he could think clearly, Neville resolved to just make as much noise as possible. Even if it wouldn't help his situation any, he might as well try to take out the Carrow's eardrums while he was at it.

What felt like hours later, Neville slowly registered the feeling returning to his limbs. Blinking rapidly to dispel the involuntary tears he had shed, he sat up from where he had fallen next to his desk.

Carrow was smirking at him. "Had enough then, Longbottom? Or will another dose of pain make you keep your trap shut?"

Neville opened his mouth, about to retort, but caught sight of Hannah from where she was standing behind Carrow. She shook her head violently.

He clamped his mouth shut.

"As I suspected," Carrow sneered. "To continue, Muggles are dumb stupid creatures that live in filth. As pureblood wizards, you all should be wary of Muggles and the dangers they present to our way of life. Only the weaklings and delusional interact with Muggles, and only the vilest, most disgraceful wizards will fornicate with one. They should be killed immediately for their insult to other wizards and high level of contamination_-_"

Neville tuned her out at this point. Instead he planned the next DA meeting tomorrow night. After a moment he decided that they would practice a rather complicated jinx that Hermione had mentioned to him last year. Unfortunately it required partners, so Neville spent the next ten minutes drawing up a diagram on a spare bit of parchment, trying to figure out the most compatible pairs. He was so immersed that he didn't notice when Carrow began prowling up and down the desks.

Suddenly Neville's piece of parchment was ripped out from under his hands. "What's this, Longbottom?" she asked in a dangerous voice right in his ear, "Are you not paying attention to my lesson?"

Neville quickly saw that she still had his list captured in her claw-like hand. Oh no, he thought. If she realized what it was... Everyone would be targeted. Even more so than they already are, that is. He needed a plan. And fast.

"Lesson?" Neville looked around at her with wide eyes. "I didn't know there was a lesson going on. I just thought it was you making up stuff as usual."

Beyond furious, Carrow glowered down at him. For a moment she neither moved nor spoke, Neville assumed that she was trying to decide on a proper punishment for him.

Without warning, her fist contacted harshly with the side of his head, making him see stars. It took him a moment to stop the room from spinning, but by then Carrow had moved on. With a dull sense of satisfaction, Neville noticed that she had dropped his piece of parchment on the floor in disgust as she walked away.

Her speech continued on without further interruption.

At the end of class as everyone packed to go, Carrow said coldly, "Longbottom, a word."

Neville walked slowly up to the front of the classroom, wondering what she might have in store for him this time.

"Two outbursts in one day," she began, "I think it's time you see the headmaster."

Neville stood stock still, unsure of how to react.

"But, before you run off like a good little boy, I want to make sure that you get the message to not disobey me into your thick skull once again. _Cru-"_ she started, raising her wand.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Hannah came barrelling towards her and shoved her with all her might onto the ground.

"Come on!" hissed Hannah as she grabbed Neville's hand. "Let's get out of here!"

Stunned, Carrow didn't move for several moments. "I'll get you for this, you dumb bitch!" Carrow screamed as she got to her feet, but by then Hannah and Neville had sprinted past their bemused classmates and down the corridor.

"Stop them!" Neville heard Carrow shriek from not so far away. "Once I get my hands on you, I'll put you through so much pain you'll wish you'd never been born!"

"In here!" Neville said, spotting a hidden broom closet that was pretending to be a bit of solid wall when they rounded a corner. He threw open the door, shoved Hannah roughly inside, and closed it behind him.

They waited with baited breath for a few moments, listening as thundering footsteps drew nearer and nearer. To their immense relief they continued on past their hiding spot and faded off down the hall.

Behind him, Neville heard and felt Hannah sigh.

To his intense embarrassment, he just noticed that the closet was rather small. There was barely enough room for both of them; he could feel where her warm breath met his neck, and where her breasts were pressed into his back. An altogether uncomfortable, but oddly pleasant situation, Neville thought to himself.

"We'd better stay in here a bit longer, in case she decides to look for us again," Hannah whispered as they heard a chattering crowd of students pass their hiding place.

"Sure," Neville said instantly, not really looking forward to leaving Hannah's side; especially since he had such a good reason for being there.

"I figure we might just stay here until classes end, and then we can make it back to our dorms without a teacher spotting us amidst all the other students," continued Hannah.

Neville nodded vigorously. He was in favour of anything that put him in Hannah's presence a little longer. He tried to turn around to see her better. To his horror, he tripped on a bucket as he moved and fell right on top of Hannah, pinning her to the back of the closet.

Completely mortified, Neville muttered, "Er, sorry," as he tried to adjust his position.

Hannah was staring at him with wide eyes. Her breath was ragged, probably from shock, Neville thought. Figures that the first time he was alone in a broom closet with a girl he would scrape up a sexual harassment charge from an awfully timed bout of clumsiness.

After several embarrassing moments, Neville managed to straighten himself out. Stooping slightly from the lack of space, he searched for something to sit on. Finally spotting a rickety wooden box of cleaning supplies, he dumped the contents out and turned it upside down. He sat down with a contented sigh, eyes roving until he could spot Hannah's faint outline in the gloom.

She was sitting on a miniscule patch of bare floor, fiddling her thumbs.

Mustering up his courage, Neville hurriedly tried to start some sort of conversation. By his watch, he was looking to spend the next hour with Hannah, and he didn't fancy doing it in complete silence. "Thanks," he said quietly, not looking at her.

"For what?" she asked, eyes darting up to gaze upon his face.

Neville looked at her blankly. "For getting me out of there."

From what he could see, Hannah was blushing. "It was nothing. I mean, you took the Cruciatus curse off me, didn't you?"

"I suppose so," muttered Neville.

"So, it was only fair for me to return the favour," Hannah said kindly.

His heart plummeted into the box of Mrs. Scower's All Purpose Mess Remover that he was sitting on. Of course she only did it out of her Hufflepuff sense of fair play. Why else would she risk torture and who knew what else to save his arse? For a minute a wonderful thought had dashed across his mind, but Hannah's most recent comment brought him sharply back to Earth. She didn't save him because she felt anything but friendship, or, Merlin forbid, because she fancied him. She did it because it was the bloody right thing to do.

Neville remained silent, afraid that anything he would say would show his overwhelming sense of dejection.

"Why did you do it?" Hannah asked after several minutes. "Why do you always have to be the hero?" if anything she looked slightly reproachful.

Neville looked up from where he was contemplating a dreadfully boring feather duster to Hannah's face. "I dunno. I've been doing my best to channel Harry all year for the DA. I guess it's working in more ways than one, eh?" he gave a weak laugh.

Hannah smiled. "No, really. Not that I'm not grateful, I am," she said quickly, "But you've gotten into so much trouble..."

"It's worth it," Neville told her quietly. "If I can bolster one more person to join our cause, then it doesn't matter. To get another student to understand that what the Carrows are teaching is wrong is worth any curse they could throw at me."

Hannah was silent, tracing patterns into the dust on the floor. "How can you stand it? Being in so much pain every other day," she asked suddenly, "I've been put under it only a handful of times and I still live in fear that it will happen again." She swallowed.

"I don't stand it," Neville told her bluntly. "I hate it as much as the next person, but I guess that I-" he broke off, unsure if he wanted to tell her the real reason he could tolerate the idea of being cursed, even if not the curse itself.

"Yeah?" Hannah encouraged, looking up at him with shining eyes.

"I know what it does to people," Neville explained, "the Cruciatus curse. I've seen it at its worst. Every time I feel the pain it, I dunno, connects me with my parents or something. I remember what they went through, and it reminds me why I'm fighting, why I defend others against the Death Eaters."

Hannah seemed confused; her eyebrows had furrowed together on her forehead and she was biting her lip. "Your parents?" she asked.

Neville took a deep breath. "They were tortured too," he revealed, "with the Cruciatus curse, into insanity."

Hannah's mouth fell open. "Oh, Neville," she said quietly, "I'm so sorry."

"It's alright," he gave her a wry smile. "I never got to know them really."

"That makes it all the worse!" Hannah said loudly. Immediately her eyes widened in fear and she covered her mouth with both her hands. "Did anybody hear me?" she whispered.

Neville paused and pressed his ear to the door, "No," he said slowly, "I don't think so."

Hannah gave a silent sigh of relief. "Sorry," she muttered.

"No problem," Neville said, leaning back on his crate and almost falling off. He tried to sit up with as much dignity as possible, but just as he got his feet firmly on the ground he knocked over one of the mops. It fell against the back wall in a clatter, narrowly missing Hannah's head.

Neville jerked around to look at her, face reddening. Great. Now he probably just worked his way up from a sexual harassment charge to a full blown restraining order.

She was staring at him with wide eyes, and it was only as he averted his gaze from hers that he heard a hastily stifled peal of laughter.

He jerked his head around to look at her. Hannah, it appeared, was suffering through a silent fit of the giggles.

Neville scowled. "I'm glad you find me amusing."

Still smiling, Hannah shook her head. "No, it's just, you're cute." Abruptly her grin slid off her face and was replaced with an expression of absolute horror. "Wait, no Neville, I didn't mean-" she buried her face in her hands. "Let's just forget I ever said that," she muttered between her fingers.

Neville felt the elation bubble up from the pit of his stomach. Before he knew it he was grinning down at Hannah, the happiest he had been in a very long time. "Really?" he asked casually, leaning over to brush a few strands of golden hair from where they were trapped between her fingers. "That's a shame."

Warily Hannah lowered her hands from her face to stare at him.

"Because if I didn't forget what you just said-"

Hannah glowered at him for teasing her.

"- I think I would have said something along the lines of, I think you're pretty cute too," he continued.

Hannah tried vainly to keep up her stern expression, but Neville saw the corners of her mouth curling up into a smile.

"You mean it?" Hannah breathed, "You're not just saying that to make me feel any less like an idiot?"

"I mean it," Neville said calmly, playing with a strand of her hair. "Although 'cute' wouldn't have been my first choice."

"No?" Hannah asked, raising her eyebrows. It was said in a joking manner, but Neville could tell that she was quite serious about his answer.

"Sexy, gorgeous," Neville jerked his head in an offhand manner, cracking it painfully on the closet wall behind him, "anything along those lines," he gasped, rubbing the side of his head with his hands. "Damn," he swore.

Hannah got up on her knees and made her way over to him. "Oh Neville," she sighed, reaching her hand up to touch where his head had forcefully made contact with the wall. Tenderly she ran her fingers along his scalp, wincing sympathetically as he made a face.

"Same place where the old pig punched me," he muttered.

Hannah frowned. "Hold still," she commanded, pulling out her wand and waving it expertly at the side of his head.

Neville felt the area grow hot then cold as the ache subsided.

"How is it?" Hannah asked anxiously, "I haven't preformed that healing spell in a long time."

"Feels great actually," Neville exclaimed, gingerly touching his head. "Thanks."

Hesitantly Hannah leaned over and placed a gentle kiss to the area.

"Much better now," Neville murmured as she drew away.

"Glad to hear it," Hannah said softly, shuffling over so that she kneeled right in front of him.

She was very close, Neville thought to himself as he watched Hannah stow away her wand. Panicking slightly, he watched as she leaned in even closer.

Neville's lips met hers halfway. The kiss was tender at first, closemouthed, soft and gentile. Gradually he grew more confident as he felt her mouth open against his. Her tongue flicked playfully in and out of his mouth, and Neville started to enjoy himself immensely. As did Hannah, judging from the moans that were issuing from her.

That is, until the crate broke from under their combined weight.

Laughing, Hannah withdrew to survey the damage around her. "You're not hurt even more, are you?" she asked.

"Nope," Neville said cheerfully, looking up at her. "I'm fine. How bout you?"

"Spiffing."

"Great."

Hannah reached down to grab Neville's Gryffindor tie.

For a wild moment he thought she was going to strangle him with it and that this had been all a very confusing dream. For no witch as nice and pretty as Hannah would ever find herself shut up in a broom closet with _him_ of all people.

However, all she did was use it to raise his head so that she could snog him again. All in all, Neville was very pleased with this turn of events.

Bizarre as it may be, at that precise moment Neville felt absolutely normal. While he was snogging Hannah he managed to forget the day's horrendous events and the war. He didn't care that there were Death Eater teachers waiting outside for them, that he might as well be facing certain death in a few months, that he would surely get cursed by a bunch of Slytherins tomorrow – all that mattered was Hannah and the feel of her in his arms.

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**A/N: I've never written a trio-era fic. Please tell me if you liked it! ****Also, if you want to request another canon pairing that was not mentioned above, just tell me and I'll be happy to oblige. Or, if you _really_ want to read one of the couples already mentioned, shoot me an e-mail or say so in a review, I'll move it up on my priority list and type it out as soon as I can.**


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